


five scoops, whip on the side, and a cherry to go

by corkhighway



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: D/V Week, Double Penetration, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, Incest, M/M, Selfcest, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corkhighway/pseuds/corkhighway
Summary: The world rarely gives Dante anything for free. When it does, it's always with strings attached, usually ones that force him to give it up right after he's gotten it. It'll dangle something he's always wanted within his reach, he'll chase it down, then it'll be ripped away from him, usually with his own sword stuck through his chest for good measure. It's a hard life.So, of course, when the world does throw him a bone...Dante can't be blamed for being a little greedy.
Relationships: 1D2D3D4D5D/3V, Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 149





	five scoops, whip on the side, and a cherry to go

**Author's Note:**

> just joined DMC in time for d/v week and wanted to get something out to participate, so obviously here's 7k of porn

Vergil was gorgeous, but Dante wasn’t surprised. 

His older brother looked pretty fucking good on just a day-to-day basis, but something about that massive plush velvet bed he was sitting smack in the middle of really did him justice. The mimic in front of him was a perfect replica: Pale unblemished skin, slim but sturdy frame, impeccably slicked-back hair...even the cold, aloof glare in his eyes was so _Vergil_.

Dante used to be able to see the same body in the mirror, whenever he bothered to look, but somehow it had never seemed half as pretty on him as it did on Vergil. It never made him half as hard, either.

He knew, of course, that this wasn’t real. He didn’t remember stumbling into a devil’s trap, and he’d never seen illusory power this strong before, but nothing other than a demon could have brought him here. He’d just been kicking back in his chair in his office, idly waiting for his brother to return from a mission with Nero, when he’d been abruptly plucked out of his seat and dropped in this room.

There hadn’t even been a warning: Just a brilliant flash of light, the feeling of being _moved_ , and here he was. In a big fancy bedroom, with a big fancy bed, and a very convincingly fake Vergil. It was so convincing, in fact, that Dante could easily see himself believing it...twenty years ago.

It seemed that for all the work the demons had done pulling off the perfect replica, they’d missed the age by a good margin. He didn’t blame them: Time started to bleed together for the older powers, and he was plenty happy to reap the rewards of their mistake.

Dante took a few steps forward to prop a leg up on the edge of the bed, leaning in and palming himself through the thin leather of his pants. Maroon satin sheets were pooled all over Vergil, as if lazily thrown over him, but they revealed more than they hid. He could see all the smooth limber curves of muscle, all the hard lines of his chest tapering down to his waist, and even the slight bulge in his lap was outlined.

Fucking _delicious_. Why the hell didn’t demons try this kind of stuff more often?

“Dante,” Vergil greeted him, his voice managing to be emotionless and somehow accusing at the same time. “Imagine finding you here. I suppose you think you’ve won.”

Dante closed his eyes for a second, savoring the bite in his brother’s voice. The Vergil in the real world didn’t talk to him like that anymore, and while he was happy to finally have normal conversations with his brother, he missed the old times too. It reminded him of a time he’d been different, with less worries, fewer jagged edges around his heart. 

Or maybe he just liked seeing Vergil as his bratty old self again. Whatever demonic forces were at work here had managed to put up a pretty accurate display of his older brother before the Temen-ni-gru, before the fall, before _hell_. His cruel, selfish asshole of a big brother.

The fake’s presence here was an obvious trap. It was almost certainly a deadly one. He was _definitely_ walking right into it.

Dante reached for his own belt with his other hand, undoing it and sliding it out of its loops, then started pulling at the clasp of his pants.

Vergil’s eyes had been trained on his face for the whole time, watching him with a glare that didn’t bother to conceal its dislike, but at the clinking of metal he finally glanced downwards. His eyes widened, expression morphing first to confusion, then to shock. “Dante, you-”

Vergil cut himself off, his features finally settling into thinly-veiled disgust. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Thought that was kinda obvious, Verge,” Dante said, unbothered. He undid a few buttons, got his zipper down, and pulled his cock free from his pants. He was only half-hard, but with his brother lying nude on a bed in front of him, that was bound to change soon. “This is my fantasy, right? Figured you would've got the memo.”

Vergil’s eyes went even wider, fixated on Dante’s bared cock even as his voice grew louder. “Your... _fantasy_? Are you mad!? You see _this_ and think...you degenerate _animal_!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dante breathed, his voice husky, low. Hell, they’d really nailed it. That was _exactly_ what his brother had said, the first time he’d confessed. He gave his dick another few pumps, enjoying the rough feeling of his calloused palm against sensitive skin. “Just like that. You love talking down to me, don’t you? But you still ain’t running.”

“You filthy, disgusting...I _can’t_!” Vergil spat, pausing his tirade just to contest that point. He sat up, suddenly, the silk sheets trailing off his skin like water to reveal what was underneath. Before Dante could get distracted by the fresh new view, Vergil raised his hands, and Dante’s focus jerked down at the surprising sound of metal links clanking against each other.

_...Well, I’ll be damned._ Vergil wasn’t lying: He was chained to the bed.

“Oh,” Dante said, because, well, he wasn’t expecting that. “ _Oh_ ,” he said again, because, well, that was _really fucking hot_. His asshole big brother, back to his bratty old self, naked in a bed and literally _chained down for him_? That solved the problem of a half-hard cock: He was up to full mast in a second flat.

“Aw, c’mon,” came a voice from behind the bed. The sound of it had Dante frowning even as he jerked his head up in wariness, familiar for some odd reason. “Gonna start the party without me?”

_Damn. Demon’s shown itself already. Show’s over, I guess._

Vergil jerked back away from Dante, twisting his head around to look behind him. Dante reached a hand out to his side to call for his sword, ready to-

It was just a mirror.

Bright blue eyes, just bright enough to be a little unnatural. Silver hair, shoddily-cut and hanging down in his face. A cheeky grin, lips pulled back to flash clean white teeth.

Exactly like looking into a mirror. _Twenty years ago_.

This Dante’s face was soft, without the sharp angles of maturity. The impishness in that grin smacked of youth, of blazing overconfidence and the cockiness he’d never really lost. The brilliant vermillion coat fit just a little too big around that slim frame, space left for muscle and breadth that hadn’t fully developed yet.

He was leaning over the edge of the headboard, one elbow propped against it and and a hand braced against his head with the other arm hanging down loosely. He was a perfect replica of Dante at a much younger age, down to the careless, lazy way he was swinging his dangling arm as he waited for them to respond to him.

Dante sent a glance around the room, jabbing a finger at the younger version of himself and addressing wherever the creature that was manipulating this little fantasy world might be. “Hey, I can let the wrong-age thing slide, but he’s gotta go. I’m vain, but I ain’t _that_ vain.”

The younger him grinned wider, looking him up and down, as if taking in all the changes the years had brought. “Inviting me in just to kick me out? That’s pretty rude...even for a cranky old bastard like you.”

Son of a bitch, whoever was running this show was good. They’d nailed Vergil, and apparently they’d nailed him, too: That was _exactly_ the kind of thing he’d have said, when he’d been that age. Dante was half-tempted to keep the illusion-him around, mess with it a bit, see how much this demon really knew about him. 

Vergil was still staring at the younger version of him, confusion written clear on his face, when the sound of jangling spurs rang out from the far end of the room. All three of them turned towards the noise-

To see yet another Dante step into the light, this one outfitted with the heavy belts and cowboy-esque boots he’d worn when dealing with the mess in Fortuna. The newcomer took in the three of them, gaze bouncing around before settling squarely on Vergil, and grinned. “Aw, hell. Why don’t the demons try this kind of stuff more often?”

_...What?_

Dante remembered thinking that exact line himself, not two minutes earlier. Sure, it wasn’t exactly an out-of-character thing for him to say, but the match was just a little too perfect to be coincidental.

The first seeds of doubt planted themselves in Dante’s mind, adding up the parallels and suggesting a possibility that was far too outlandish to be true. Sure, he’d run into a few creatures with time-manipulating abilities before, but he’d already killed the strongest one of them, and this kind of feat would be far beyond what even that one had been capable of. 

“The only demon trying anything here is _you_ , buddy,” his youngest self chimed in, impish grin still in place. From the looks of it, at that point in his life Dante hadn’t run into the Geryon yet: He had no reason to suspect what Dante was slowly putting together. “You might be some pretty convincing fakes, but I ain’t buying it.”

More parallels. More connections. Dante wasn’t sure he liked where this was headed. 

“That’s some smart talk for a kid like you,” the other Dante quipped. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to look up to your elders?”

“They said to look up to my elders, not the _dinosaurs_ ,” the younger Dante shot back, standing up a little straighter. Dante had loved nothing more than the chance for a good fight back then, before he’d realized that only one person could ever grant him that. “Need a hand picking up that sword, old man? Might be a little too much for someone your age.”

“Is this a bad time?” Another voice from a different corner of the room, and when they all turned to look, two figures stepped forward. The one that spoke looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties, brash confidence visible in his posture but a little more subdued than in Dante’s youngest self. The one standing beside him was noticeably more reserved, watching them all silently with his arms crossed. “We figured we’d introduce ourselves, but I’d hate to get in the middle of something important.”

_Well,_ Dante thought to himself, taking in the four other versions of him all present together in the room, 

_Fuck_.

“I was sitting in my office one moment, and here the next.”

“Same for me.”

“Me, too.”

“Ditto.”

Silence from the next Dante in their little circle, but he nodded as they looked to him, confirming the same had occurred for him as well.

Dante crossed his arms, drumming his fingers against his bicep. “So,” he said.

The Dante closest in age to him crossed his arms as well, following suit. “So.”

“So,” the Dante who’d joined them last echoed. “...How the hell did this happen?”

“Demons,” came the chorus of replies, all at the same time. 

“Yeah,” that Dante acknowledged. “Stupid question. What I mean is, how the hell do we get out of-”

“No, _that_ ain’t the question,” the youngest him butted in, blatantly cutting the other off and pointing straight at Vergil. “The question is, do we really care?”

Five pairs of eyes turned towards Vergil, his pale, nude form shining like a beacon amongst the mountains of plush red satin and velvet. Chains clinked as he eyed them right back, suspicion heavy in his glare, looking as aloof and judgemental and fucking gorgeous as he ever had.

As it turned out, that was indeed the right question to ask.

And as it turned out, the answer was a universal, resounding ‘no.’

When Vergil had seen them all advancing on him, five figures forming a circle around the bed and all climbing on at once, he’d struggled and jerked and yanked against his chains. It was useless: Their hold was tight, and his little brother’s hold was even tighter.

They all took him at once, and from the very beginning, Vergil knew it was too much. He couldn’t handle it, all of the big, warm bodies crowding in on him at the same time, reaching hands and grasping fingers and mouths latching on all over him.

Vergil shouted and hissed and fought back hard, against all five of them as they pushed and tugged and maneuvred him down into the position they wanted. They held his legs apart, spreading his ass and slipping two fingers in, three, four, taking turns preparing him for what was to come. Vergil didn’t make it easy for them, clenching tight in an attempt to drive them out, but the oldest - and strongest - one of them simply grabbed him by the throat, held him down, and split him open on his cock. The burn of the first penetration was the hardest, his body resisting the intrusion, but the Dante inside him shifted his hips, changing the angle, until Vergil was twisting his hands in the sheets and cursing his brother aloud.

They all closed in on him then and he lost track of time, of consciousness, caught up in the lewd squelching of slick flesh and the hot, heady musk of sex permeating the air. It was a whole different atmosphere on the bed, trapped between five men all eager to get their piece of him. He drifted off for a moment, a minute, maybe ten, his mind going numb in the face of all the stimuli he was being forced to face.

When Vergil came back the first time, it was on his knees, the bed shaking beneath him as he was plowed from behind by two separate, distinct forces. Two sets of hands had a hold of him, splitting the task of pinning his arms behind him and holding onto his shoulders for leverage. He was pushed forward with every thrust, but they yanked him back to meet them, working together in tandem to drive deeper inside of him.

Fingers tangled in his hair, and his head was pushed down, a slicked cock sliding against his cheek and leaving a sticky trail of precum in its wake. The shift in angle forced him to press his ass back against the dicks inside of him, and Vergil heard two separate but identical sucked-in breaths. His own cut-off gasp matched them, his body not prepared for the change.

It took Vergil a moment to adjust to the deeper penetration, his hole seizing and his teeth gritting as his insides protested the renewed assault, but eventually he gathered the stability to look upward and see who had subjected him to this change in position. He recognized the Dante he knew, impish grin and wild hair and abominable fashion choice all in one. The brute that he was, he hadn’t even bothered to fully undress, leaning back against the bed with his pants unzipped and his bright red coat spread out beneath him.

Dante grinned wider when he noticed Vergil looking at him, bucking his hips to slide his cock against Vergil’s face again. His little brother’s expression was gloating in its purest form, basking in the power he must think he had over Vergil now, as if joining with four other versions of himself to enact what qualified as a pornstar’s dream on his older brother was some sort of _victory_.

It was stupid. It was ridiculous. Dante hadn’t won _anything_.

Vergil glared up at his brother, annoyance flaring inside him at the confidence exuding from Dante. His little brother was an idiot to think that he’d triumphed here. Such petty, animalistic competitions meant nothing. He opened his mouth to tell him as much, and Dante seized the opportunity.

Dante forced Vergil’s mouth down over his shaft, hips meeting Vergil’s face as he fucked up into his throat. Vergil had no choice but to suck him down and swallow his release when it came, but when Dante tugged at his hair again, Vergil refused to let up. He relished his brother’s pained gasp when he tried to pull Vergil off his cock and failed, Vergil swallowing him even deeper to torment Dante’s sensitive flesh with the tight grip of his throat. He didn’t let up until Dante cried out, his little brother swearing and shuddering beneath the unrelenting pressure.

When he finally pulled up, Vergil was treated to the sight of Dante splayed on his back against the bed, chest heaving from being sucked dry, all cockiness wiped from his face and replaced with the pained wince of overstimulation.

_I win_ , Vergil thought smugly, before another Dante’s gloved hand reached down to grab his chin and the world was lost to him in a haze of sensation.

The second time he returned to reality, it was to the sound of his name. He hadn’t even realized his eyes had slid closed until he opened them again, and he was held up straight now, supported by a Dante behind him and a Dante in front: Even through his brief disconnection with reality, they’d kept fucking him.

The Dante in front of him was laying kisses on his chest and whispering to him, quiet words, broken apologies, promises he couldn’t quite make out. The one behind him had their arms wrapped around his chest, their face buried in his neck, holding him tight and saying nothing at all. Both had braced their thighs between his own, keeping them spread so they could piston into his hole, one after the other. Their pace was steady but staggered, and Vergil could feel his insides fluttering and clenching each time one drew back only for the other to slam straight in.

“Vergil?”

His name again. Vergil turned towards the sound, and was greeted with the sight of the oldest Dante leaning back against the headboard a few feet away, the man’s concerned gaze morphing to a familiar sly grin before Vergil had even completely registered it. “Hey, gorgeous. Thought we’d lost you for a second there.”

Vergil worked his jaw, swallowing, testing his voice. When it came out, it was hoarse from the rawness of his throat. “Don’t fool yourself. Not even a hundred of you could take me down.”

The Dante behind him made a noise almost like a choked-off sob, but pressed a kiss just below his ear when Vergil tilted his head to listen more closely. His attention was drawn back towards the headboard when his younger brother slid down next to the oldest Dante, cocky smirk back on his face without even a hint that it had ever left. He’d finally stripped down, and seeing the familiar lithe form of his brother next to the bulkier, more solid body of the man he would become was an interesting sight indeed.

“C’mon, Verge, don’t be like that,” his younger brother purred, sliding a hand down his older counterpart’s chest, fingers teasing at one of the man’s nipples. “We’ve got somethin’ special for you, and I’d hate for you to miss it.”

Vergil looked them over, taking in the nude state of both, the suggestive look the younger was flashing at the older, the older’s answering smile. Were they implying..?

_No_ , Vergil thought, distracted, the pounding force in his ass taking a backseat as he considered what was being offered. _No, they couldn’t...could they..?_

“Do you expect something like this to affect me?” Vergil told them, cold, haughty. “You’re wasting your time.”

The older Dante turned his head to give his counterpart a slow, filthy, tongue-filled kiss, his younger brother leaning into it eagerly, and the blatant, pulsing throb in Vergil’s cock at the sight gave lie to his words. He’d cum so many times already, from them reaching around to grasp him and jerk him in time with their thrusts, from them sucking him down at their own pace while he was held helplessly immobile, from the sheer force of the abuse they were laying on his prostate. He felt empty, drained: Surely he had nothing left to give.

And yet, he still watched with rapt attention, poorly hidden, as they fondled and groped each other, the younger reaching a hand down to pump the older’s cock even as the older slid a few fingers between the younger’s ass to probe at his hole. The sight of his younger brother’s entrance fluttering open, his legs adjusting to allow himself to be fingered, was quickly stirring a heat inside him that Vergil had thought was utterly spent.

A hand came down to grab the side of Vergil’s face, pulling his attention away from the scene. He dimly recognized another older-looking Dante above him, the hair slightly shorter and the face showing fewer lines, but the grin on his lips matched all the others’. “Hey, Vergil. You got a minute?”

It was such a _Dante_ thing to say that Vergil could not hide his grimace. Only Dante would phrase it in such a way: Seeing the man’s hard length, swollen and flushed red and heavy in his palm, it was obvious what the man had in mind for his free time. “Why bother to ask me now?”

The man stepped closer, his hand trailing down Vergil’s jaw to slip a thumb in his mouth, pressing his lips apart. “Hey, just trying to be polite.”

Vergil closed his teeth on Dante’s thumb so he could speak around it. “How quaint.” 

Dante let him hold it there, but the next moment there were three fingers in his mouth, forcing his jaw open. The man’s cock soon followed, his hand pressing at the back of Vergil’s head to guide him to take it all the way down his throat.

Vergil allowed him to fuck his face, saliva gathering thick on his lips and the base of Dante’s cock, the man eventually moving both hands to his head to put real force behind his thrusts. Vergil found himself with no choice but to focus all his attention on not choking, sucking the blunt head down as far as he could.

He heard a bitten-off curse from below, the Dante pressed against his chest likely realizing what was going on just above his head. The pounding in his ass redoubled, forcibly drawing his attention back to it, and Vergil let out a little involuntary noise that vibrated down the length of the slick flesh in his throat.

The Dante in his mouth pulled away, tugging his cock out of Vergil’s mouth and taking it into his own hand with a huffed breath. With his brief moment of freedom, Vergil turned to look back at the other side of the bed, where the two versions of his brother had teased him earlier with their hands on each other.

Another involuntary sound was forced out of Vergil, a surprised inhale, his cock jerking against his thigh as he saw how far they’d progressed. The older Dante had gotten the other down on all fours, hands braced on his hips as he pistoned in and out of him. Vergil’s little brother was the picture of wanton abandon, eyes shut and mouth falling open, letting out little moans and canting his hips back as his ass was used.

_This...this is..._

Dante, acting like the unabashed slut he was, getting fucked just to put on a show for Vergil. His little brother, bending over and presenting his ass to an older version of himself, like nothing more than a common _whore_.

The older Dante’s eyes were trained on Vergil, watching him watch them. There was something dark in the man’s eyes, something full of twisted enjoyment as he leaned forward and slammed a palm down against the back of the Dante beneath him, forcing him to drop down from his hands to his elbows with his ass raised high in the air. They were doing this for _him_. For _Vergil_.

It was the filthiest, most primal display of sheer debauchery Vergil had ever witnessed, and it was making him so _painfully_ hard that he could not longer bear it. He threw his arms around the Dante in front of him for leverage, pulling as far as he could against the chains to reach. He bore down heavily on the cocks inside him, clenching tight in his sudden neediness and urging them harder, faster, deeper. He’d lost all his reservations, all his dignity, all his _control_ : He was utterly lost to it all.

“Vergil…” The Dante standing beside him breathed, giving his cock one last harsh tug, squeezing the head as he came right on Vergil’s face. Vergil snarled as white streaks shot out towards him, too focused chasing his own release to pull away as ropes of cum landed against his lips, in his hair, pale milky strings catching in his eyelashes.

“ _Vergil…_ ” Quickened breathing from the Dante in front of him, and a silent, reserved tensing from the one behind, and then they were both cumming inside him, hips jerking in unison as they shot their seed deep in his guts.

“ _Vergil._ ” Growled out in an inhumanly low pitch. Across from him, the oldest Dante leaned in, gaze locked on the mess of Vergil’s face as his hips pistoned brutally hard into the Dante beneath him. 

His little brother cried out, reaching out with a frantic, desperate hand that curled around Vergil’s cock even as Dante’s own cock spat and his orgasm was fucked out of him. Vergil gasped at the grip around him, its pressure painful against his sensitive flesh.

_No, I-I can’t...nothing left...too much..!_

His name, echoed so many times, in voices so similar and yet still distinct, each one tinged with a different feeling, a different brand of desperate neediness for him. Every one of them was Dante, was _his_ , a creature that belonged to him and him alone. He owned these men, _all of them_ , inside and out.

Vergil could feel their essence overflowing inside him, dripping out of his hole, the wet noises of it loud in his ears as they fucked him. His little brother’s hand cinched like a vise around him, pumping him harder, faster. The coil inside him tightened, and Vergil threw his head back and _wailed_ as pressure peaked inside him and exploded out-

_“D-Dante..!”_

He came, helplessly, shudders wracking him as he crested over wave after wave without a single drop spilling out. They’d taken everything from him until he had nothing left, emptied him out after hours and hours of merciless fucking, replacing it all with _them_ until all he felt was their essence like a permanent presence in his mouth, in his throat, in his guts.

The dry orgasm was the last straw. Mercifully, the tide fully overtook him at last, and Vergil passed out.

Vergil gasped, suddenly conscious and startlingly cold. He was on his side on the bed, empty for the first time since the brutal breeding had begun. The chill in the air was distinctly unpleasant, and Vergil abruptly realized that he couldn’t feel anyone else around him. No hands holding his hips still, no thigh wedged between his to keep them spread open, no steady, warm chest against his back grounding him-

A palm rested against the side of his head, fingers gently stroking his hair as if to comfort him, and Vergil only realized he’d started to shiver when that soft touch made it stop. 

He could hear voices around him in the bed, the different Dantes talking amongst themselves, some hushed and subdued and others excited and chattery. They hadn’t left him, merely retreated to form a loose circle with him lying in the center. The bed was big enough that they could do that, giving him space while still remaining in range.

Vergil’s senses slowly returned to him, in bits and pieces. He took stock.

His eyesight was blurry, out of focus. His hole ached in little pulses of white-hot pain, the muscles inside bruised and sore from the pounding he’d taken. His throat burned, the back of it rubbed raw after being fucked so much, and he couldn’t swallow enough to get the salty taste out of his mouth. He could feel cum trickling out of him in steady rivulets down his thighs, leaving sticky trails that dried in the cool air. His cock lay spent and oversensitive against his lower belly, prickling with little electric aftershocks that left him twitching and hyper-aware of his nakedness.

Exhaustion was a physical part of him, down to his very bones. He felt dirty. He felt used. He _had_ been used, abused, until he was nothing more than a sloppy wet hole attached to a loose, fucked-out body. Every inch of him was covered in semen, _Dante’s_ semen: It was as if together they’d claimed him that way, marking him as their possession like a pack of wild animals.

_Brutes, the lot of them_ , Vergil thought tiredly, thinking of how long it would take to get all of the cum out of his hair. 

A bright flash of white light suddenly engulfed his vision, and he heard the Dantes stirring around him, five hands immediately reaching for five swords. A split-second later, another flash of light sparked in the air, this time blue-tinted.

The bed was suddenly much lighter around him, the sunken edges of its mattress springing up now that fewer bodies were weighing it down. Vergil didn’t need to look around: He knew that Dante, in all his forms, was no longer present in the room.

A voice came from the shadows in the far corner, familiar to him in the oddest way. “They’ve been returned.”

“Ah,” Vergil sighed, as he straightened his back and - gingerly - moved to sit up. He flexed his wrists in one quick movement, snapping the cuffs binding them with ease, then stretched out his legs, wincing as the motion sent a spike of pain shooting from his sore ass straight up his spine. His healing abilities had been greatly taxed in the past few hours, and Vergil knew it would likely take hours more to catch up with the strain his body had been subjected to. “It’s you.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” 

The voice might have sounded aloof to the untrained ear, but Vergil knew this particular voice more than well enough to detect the slightly mocking undertone. “Of course,” he answered, smoothly, taking care to remain indifferent in the face of the jab. “Why so concerned? Could it be that you're jealous?”

A soft _tsk_ echoed in the empty air, somehow conveying condescension and annoyance in the same wordless syllable, and the hollow sound of boots against lacquered wood followed it. Vergil watched as his older self stepped into the light, clad in a long black coat, impeccably put-together in stark contrast to Vergil’s own state of complete disarray. “Jealous? Of what, perhaps? How long it will take you to clean all of that out of your hair?”

His own thoughts, spoken back at him. They truly were one and the same. Vergil had been suspicious, of course, when this mysterious apparition had appeared in front of him claiming to be his older self. A quick conversation, some shared knowledge that had never been entrusted to any others, and his suspicions had been allayed. 

As for _why_ his future self had approached him...that had taken significantly more convincing.

In all honesty, he still did not understand how this arrangement was supposed to be a victory for him, some sort of triumph over the Dante his older self knew. The other Vergil had been quite insistent on it, and Vergil recognized the conviction within himself, but that didn’t help him to connect the path between the two points.

It didn’t matter now. The deal was done. “I suppose it is time for me to return, then.”

The older Vergil stood above him now, Yamato held close by his side, recently resheathed from whatever power he had used to manipulate time itself. Vergil very much looked forward to learning how to wield such a power. “Indulge me on one last matter.”

_I feel I’ve indulged you enough_ , Vergil wanted to say, but his older self had too many avenues to counter that argument. He may not have been present throughout the entire ordeal, but he’d certainly watched some of it: Vergil could hardly claim that he hadn’t benefited from their arrangement. Instead, he simply nodded.

“Spread your legs.”

Vergil frowned, not understanding. “Why?”

“Indulge me,” his older self repeated, and Vergil knew he would get no more explanation for the request.

_Very well, then._

Vergil cautiously slid a hand over his oversensitive cock, protecting it from any undue stimulation, before he once more lay back against the bed, allowing his thighs to fall open and expose his hole. He could still feel it leaking, cum oozing out of him to be soaked up by the sheets below. He closed his eyes: exhaustion was still heavy in him, demanding its due, and every second he kept them open felt like another insurmountable task.

A second passed. Vergil felt warm breath against his hole, then a single finger, testing him there. He clenched in surprise, mouth opening to protest, but after a beat he let it fall shut. He didn’t understand the motivation behind it, but he could not find a reason within himself to care. What was one more act of debauchery, in all he’d participated in this evening? It was not nearly on level with what Dante had done to himself, just a few scant minutes earlier.

The finger pressed against the little muscles of his entrance and Vergil felt cum leaking out of him: It slid inside and seemed small, compared to what he’d just taken. Two more slipped into him, fitting easily, his insides loose and lax around them. If the other Vergil had any thoughts about what he was finding, he didn’t speak them.

“He took himself,” Vergil murmured to him, surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth, surprised to be speaking at all. He still hadn’t fulled processed the recent events. “Fucked himself. For me. Did you see?”

The fingers inside him paused. Vergil was curious to see his counterpart’s expression, but not enough so that he wanted to put in the monumental effort necessary to open his eyes. “...No. I did not. Hold your legs.”

Vergil acquiesced, hands sliding around his thighs and pulling them up to his chest. He felt his hole being spread, held open. Another little flash of white light. He kept his eyes closed.

More pressing. More prodding. His other self’s fingers were cold, a shock at first but then somehow pleasantly soothing against his raw flesh. It felt not unlike some kind of medical procedure, brusque and clinical. At least, it did until the fingers pulled away, breath puffing against his most sensitive skin before they were replaced by what was, judging by its slick warmth, most definitely a _tongue_.

Vergil could not keep quiet at that, eyes flying open as he released his legs and struggled to sit up. Foreign hands came back down in place of his and forced him to keep his position, their unyielding grip like iron bands around him.

Vergil propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down himself to see the other Vergil lying between his legs, glaring back up at him with what was clearly annoyance at being interrupted.

Vergil tested the restraint of the other’s grip around him, finding their power beyond his own: The chains had been nothing more than a show piece, but this strength certainly wasn’t. He elected to choose a different approach. “You’re taking this quite far.” 

His other self watched him, steady, unblinking. “Is that your opinion?”

Vergil recognized the impasse for what it was. He held that gaze, matching the unblinking stare, for a long moment before conceding, lying back down against the sheets. He rationalized it as apathy, uncaringness towards his other self’s whims, but he knew inside himself that this older Vergil was far stronger than him. If this was what the man wanted, he had the capability to take it, regardless of Vergil’s say in the matter. 

Immediately, the tongue was back on him, lapping at his rim and delving past it. Vergil felt it lengthening inside of him, thickening to something very much not human, pushing deeper and deeper into him. It was an odd feeling, but not an unpleasant one, and Vergil might have actually enjoyed it if he hadn’t been so sore already from-

_He’s eating Dante’s cum_.

The realization hit Vergil mid-thought as he recognized the motions inside of him, the searching nature of the exploration, the way the other Vergil periodically dragged his tongue back into his mouth to suck on it. His older self was cleaning him out, tracking down the copious amounts of semen that five Dantes had ever-so-kindly seen fit to leave in him and feasting on it.

_That’s...he’s...why..?_

Vergil took the information in, processed it...and decided that it simply wasn’t worth the effort to pursue. He’d dealt with so much already today that his mental capacities were at their limit, unwilling to take on any more possibly life-altering realizations. Vergil simply lay back and allowed himself to be held down, bent nearly in half with his thighs forced upwards and his insides thoroughly explored by his older self’s demon tongue.

It was over soon enough, the tool the other Vergil had picked for the job strikingly efficient in its manner. When the long appendage left him he was empty once more, and this time the substance slowly dripping out of his hole and trickling down was not cum, but thick saliva. In the end, it would likely still take the same amount of cleaning in order to...well, to not feel like he’d been fucked by five versions of his younger brother, really.

The other Vergil pulled away from him, leaving him cold and alone as he straightened his coat and stepped away from the bed. It was clear from his aloof manner that he considered their arrangement to be over at last, but when Vergil pushed himself to sit up on the bed, he turned back with his head inclined questioningly.

Vergil let his gaze sweep over his older self, giving the man one last, calculating look. He looked strong. He looked powerful. He looked...secure. 

And from how he’d spoken, he had Dante with him. Not the echo of Dante. Not Dante kept far away in another city, another life. Not Dante cut from another world’s cloth, taken for temporary company and nothing more. He had _Dante_. A Dante all his own.

“I _will_ be you,” Vergil said, a promise made to both of them.

His older self’s smile was reptilian in its sharpness, and that was the last thing he saw before blue light engulfed him.

Dante was sitting at his desk when Vergil walked in, reading some kind of cheap glossy magazine that he carelessly tossed aside when he noticed his brother. “So, when’re gonna follow through on that promise?”

“I already did,” Vergil informed him. “My part of the deal is fulfilled.”

“Trying to duck out at the last second? If you can’t pay up, just say so.”

“I’ve fulfilled my part,” Vergil repeated. “I’ve done what was promised.”

Dante grinned at him, a little mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. For all that had changed in him over the years, Vergil thought, some things certainly hadn’t. “C’mon, you’re full of it. The Yamato’s strong, I’ll give you that, but cutting pieces off...how’d you say it? _Alternative timelines_? Just admit you had one too many and made a promise you couldn’t keep.”

It was true, he’d had quite a few more drinks than he’d originally planned that night, leading to him engaging in a rather undignified boasting contest with his younger brother. He’d flaunted his knowledge, his swordsmanship, even his sense of style, declaring himself the superior on all fronts. 

And, as Dante had informed him the morning after when the blurriness had finally receded from both his thoughts and his vision, he’d also apparently bragged about one of the Yamato’s capabilities that he’d discovered while researching his father’s power, knowing Dante’s blade incapable of such a feat.

Though he’d long forgotten by the next morning, Dante hadn’t, pressing him unendingly for more details about this unknown ability. Vergil had eventually conceded to a demonstration, Dante’s incessant demands for proof about the issue driving him to give in: It was more out of a desire to get the man to shut up about it, than anything else. 

He’d allowed Dante to choose the terms of the display - a choice he’d regretted immediately, upon hearing what his little brother had in mind - on the condition that Dante would grant Vergil a request in return, in regards a boast _he_ had made that night. Dante, the utter fool that he was, had agreed.

And now, as he’d said, Vergil had fulfilled his half of the deal. He strode up to Dante’s desk, taking in his brother’s increasingly smug look as he approached.

Dante smirked up at him, the expression on his face the same he always had when he thought he’d gotten one over on his brother. “Give it up, Verge. You can’t possibly think I’m gonna-”

In one smooth motion, Vergil reached into his coat, withdrew the pack of photographs he’d just gotten developed, and dropped them on Dante’s desk.

Dante’s smile froze, confusion stalling him but not derailing him just yet. “What’s this? Finally going sightseeing, you crazy...old…”

_Yes_ , Vergil thought, stepping back and bringing his hands together in front of him, ready to enjoy the show. _Take it in, little brother._

Dante picked up the top photo, blinking at it, understanding slowly settling in as he recognized the figures in the image. The longer Dante drew this out, the more the twisted enjoyment Vergil got out of it, watching his brother realize just exactly what had gone on in regards to their little deal.

Dante held the photo between his hands, staring at it, comprehension dawning slowly, almost unwillingly. His finger slid over the image, lips moving wordlessly as he counted. “...That’s five. Five of me. You cut out _five of me_ , to fuck him at once.”

_And one of me_ , Vergil thought, swallowing unconsciously and savoring the taste of five Dantes’ cum still thick on his tongue. But his brother didn’t need to know that. “That was the deal, correct? You simply neglected to specify which _you_ they had to be.”

“Didn’t specify that _I_ had to be one of them, you mean.” Dante’s voice was harsh, bitingly angry, and growing more so with each word as he looked beyond the first image to see the stack of others Vergil had taken. His expression darkened as he leafed through them, sharpened teeth bared as he took in the sight of his older brother’s younger self fully exposed, completely deflowered, thoroughly _used_. His fury was a palpable presence in the air between them, rage at being tricked seeping into the physical world as his sword flickered in and out on his back.

But Vergil knew him well enough to recognize that he was sulking. Dante had been outsmarted and he knew it, and considering how familiar with Vergil’s tactics he was by now, Dante also knew that he should have seen it coming.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Dante smacked his head into his hands, dropping the photos to the desk. The rage in the air dissipated, replaced with despair. “ _Fuck,_ ” he swore. “Fuck fuck _fuck_ , mother _fucker_ , fucking bastard, cocksucking _son of a-_ ”

“You can keep the pictures,” Vergil informed him, rather magnanimously: He had no problem throwing scraps to his brother. He could play the generous victor, especially when his victory had been as complete and as glorious as this one. The utterly defeated expression on his brother’s face was something he would savor for ages to come. “Now...I believe we have unfinished business.”

Dante glanced up at him, almost halfheartedly, between a few of his fingers. Whatever he saw on Vergil’s expression made him freeze, his one visible eye going wide.

“After all, little brother,” Vergil said smoothly, his voice full of dark, deep promise, “There is still the matter of _your_ half of the deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> why have plot when you can instead write more characters fucking vergil?


End file.
